Shattering Memories
by Zchocolatebunniesrulezworld
Summary: When Roxas sees that familiar, terrifying girl after he's been captured, he has no idea that she can seize hold of his mind and shatter his memories one by one, like a giggling child popping bubbles between their small hands.


**I think that almost all of your personality is built on the memories and experiences you have, so to have that all deleted? - Naminé basically _killed_ Roxas then. And what if he was conscious while he was being erased, little by little...*shudders* I don't think I did the horror of that idea justice, but I tried ^_^**

_**o~o**_

Before Roxas opened his eyes, he thought for a moment that he still lay in his bed in The Castle That Never Was. He was going to hang out with Axel and Xi—hang on, who?—Axel in the cafeteria. They'd make jokes about the crappy Coffee That Never Was and how their nonexistent taste buds cringed as the scalding concoction seared past their lips. Later on, he'd try not to look into Saïx's terrifying eyes (how could a lack of emotion look so filled with derision and contempt?) when receiving his mission, kill the heartless as quickly as possible, and meet his friends (_friend_) at the clock tower to watch the sunset. Tomorrow, repeat. He'd been ingrained in this pattern for nearly a year.

If only he hadn't opened his eyes.

Then he could pretend that none of this was happening. No achingly familiar girl's face floated above his own. He wasn't strapped into some mysterious machine, and two men weren't arguing over the fate of his entire nonexistence.

"He's awake," Naminé (_how did he know her name?_) said, quickly backing away and whipping out a sketchbook. She looked so innocent, tucking wispy blonde hair behind her ears and smoothing out the folds in her dress as she kneeled. Why did something in her expression make Roxas shiver in an echo of fear? She held her crayons poised, a coiled serpent waiting to strike.

"No matter," a strange-looking man with a red turban draped around his face said. "It has an illusion of consciousness, but it won't feel a thing. Do it now, Naminé."

Naminé tensed and closed her eyes, concentrating hard. Roxas blurrily knew something was coming, but he was strapped in so tightly that he couldn't move a muscle.

A memory suddenly floated like an iridescent bubble to the surface of his mind.

_He and Axel were on their first mission together, assaulted by a swarm of heartless in the tunnels of Twilight Town. A jet of ice was headed directly toward his companion's back, and, on instinct, Roxas knocked it back at its caster. Axel spun around and grinned with a, _"Nice job, kid," _and a warm sensation emanated from somewhere in Roxas's chest._

Roxas basked in the memory of that warmth, then stiffened. A delicate hand that he hadn't even realized was there _(but it wasn't there, was it, this had to be an illusion inside his mind) _reached for the bubble-memory and held it gently in its grasp for a moment. In the blink of an eye, though, the hand clenched, his memory bursting with a slight _pop_.

An imprint of images and sensations stayed with Roxas until his mind wandered for a millisecond. Then it dissipated entirely, leaving him with a faint sensation of having lost something important.

In its place rose another memory of his island home, brawling with Riku over who got to marry Kairi when they grew up. It felt right, like it belonged...but in it, he wasn't _Roxas_. Roxas had dreamed about this, about the other boy who shared his body and didn't have a care in the world. What was his name? Why were those memories inside of Roxas? How were they connected?

Roxas didn't even notice Naminé once more reaching into his mind and wrenching out more precious memories. A dozen sunsets with Axel at his side popped out of existence in a heartbeat. He couldn't tell that the suppressed dreams of that other boy were floating up to the surface of his mind and becoming reality.

Quickly, though, he felt a looming sensation of dread. Whatever was happening to him was terribly, terribly wrong, and he couldn't do anything to stop it.

He suddenly desperately wanted to go back to...to the...where had he come from again? He'd forgotten—but he remembered his companions: a redhead named Axel and a terrifying woman he called Larxene...

A nagging itch in the back of his mind insisted there were more people. Hadn't there been a man who gave him purpose, a youngish boy who'd taught him to read, and someone else who lectured him on the uselessness of love? A blue sitar flashed through his mind, bringing with it a mournful—yet still somehow heartless—sound. What else...who else had he lost?

"What are you doing to me?" Roxas yelled, hysteria tingeing his voice. "Why? What did I ever do to you? Naminé, stop!"

He could feel her hesitation, and suddenly twelve faces flashed back into his memory, clear as the clock tower's bell. _Of course—_Xemnas, and Organization XIII, and the desperate yearning to feel because apparently none of his emotions were real—

"Don't listen to it, Naminé," a deep voice snapped. "You _do_ want your precious Sora back, don't you? The spare is only his echo."

And as quick as they had appeared, the faces disappeared once more. Only Axel stayed with Roxas now, but his image was blurred as if a thick glass had been placed between them.

One by one the memories trickled away, until Roxas knew nothing but that face and his own name.

By some instinct, he screamed. Over and over the cries tore from his throat, but he didn't know why. Had he lost something? He didn't—

—_Got it memorized?—_

—remember.

The salty taste of ice cream lingered in his—was he a "he"? _Who am I?_—mouth, before it too faded away as a tear trickled down his cheek.

No memory.

No feeling.

No personality.

No awareness.

His eyes could see, but all they registered were colors and sensations. Gibberish sounded around him. He was nothing, a Nobody in the truest sense of the word.

_~o~_

"Hey, Roxas! How could even _you_ sleep in this late, you zombie? I swear I'll break down this door if you don't move your lazy butt!"

Of course; that was his name: Roxas. And that voice belonged to Hayner, one of his three best friends. How could he have forgotten?

"Pence and Olette are waiting, you know. If you don't hurry, Pence'll eat all the ice cream while we're gone."

Yes: Hayner, Pence, and Olette. He'd been their best friend for as long as he could remember. There had never been anyone else; who did he think he was kidding?

"Fine, I'm up, I'm up," Roxas groaned, rolling out of bed. He winced as his head thumped against the hard wood floor.

"Great!" Hayner called. "We'll be at the usual spot. Don't wanna waste our last seven days together. Argh, why do you have to go back to that lame school?" His ranting grew more and more distant as he ran to meet their friends, and Roxas grinned, picturing Hayner waving his arms wildly at the unfairness of it all to random passersby on the street.

This had been his life for fifteen years, but something about it for the past few days felt...off. As if he didn't belong; as though his mind had shifted somehow and left this world behind...

Nah. It was probably nothing. He shrugged to himself, grabbed his skateboard, and ran out the door to meet his friends.


End file.
